


Paw Prints in the Snow

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Fever, Fireworks, Fluff, Gen, Hallucinating, Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, Protective Sam Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's seeing fireworks at every twist and turn, and apparently thinks his little brother is a big and fluffy feline. Sam just thinks it's a result of his climbing fever. No slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paw Prints in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I've really wanted to write a Dean and Sam hurt/comfort fic for a while, in which Dean is the one suffering of course. I'm normally a romance/angst girl but since I've read so many fantastic fics on here and over at LJ, and also adore the relationship between the two brothers, I figured I should give it a go and I have to say that I really had fun with this. I hope you like it (bites fingernails frantically). Oh, and happy New Year's Eve!

Sam is sitting at the table, hunched over, typing up a storm and he’s only about three feet away but according to Dean’s increasingly blurred vision, it feels like he’s an entire room from him. 

He groans, attempting to stifle it or at least hide it from Sam by turning his sweaty face into the scratchy pillow. 

It doesn’t work out too well though. 

“Whoa, hey," Sam’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, sliding discreetly up towards his neck and when it reaches his sticky and gross feeling forehead Dean can barely feel it, would not even know it was really there if only his own eyes didn’t betray his own embarrassment. 

His hand lifts up to brush Sam’s massive paw away but drops back down on the bed, eliciting an aggravated groan from his immensely dry throat. 

“Relax, tiger. Your fever’s up again.”

He licks his cracked lips and they push themselves together on instinct to pout, “Wanna go outside.”

Sam pats his leg and walks off with the glass of water on the nightstand, his glass of water. 

“Sss…”

Multicolored flashing lights; neon pink, periwinkle blue and lime green rush up to greet him. 

 

“Your color’s blue, Smy.”

“Really?” His brother is sitting on the bed with him, Dean turned towards him on his side, eyes widening because he can’t really see his little brother all too clearly right now. 

Sam thumbs the back of his neck soothingly, his remaining hand rubbing minute and predictable circles into Dean’s trembling back, radiating love and concern. 

Dean knows asking Sam to not be concerned about him is as realistic as telling him to leave Dean and go live that apple pie life he’s always wanted for him. His little brother will always be there, no matter how annoying Dean may find him. 

“Like a smurf?”

Dean nods, his vision rippling and making Sam’s hands seem bigger, “Panther smurf.”

His little brother laughs, “What?”

“Leaving paw prints in the snow. Don’t thin I can’t see them, Sssm.”

“Guess I’ll have to do a better job at covering them up then.”

He only nods, though ends up regretting it, eyes slamming shut as he fights back another wave of nausea. Sam’s thumb moves up to his forehead to wipe away the sweat there.

“You ready for another round of meds?”

“Gonna puke.”

Dean barely hears Sam’s loud yelp as he sprays his own bodily fluids; sweat, tears and vomit all over his brother’s hideous plaid shirt. 

Good riddance. 

 

“Dean. Dean…”

His voice presses into his mind gently at first, then the second time emits a feeling equivalent to the slicing of a chainsaw. He grimaces and sits up quickly, wanting to go outside, the room too stuffy to linger in any longer. 

“Hey hey hey. What are you doing? Lay back down, okay?”

Dean makes it so far as to wrap his clumsy fingers around the sheets, his grip loosening once, twice, before the third time reveals itself to be the charm. 

He throws them off his disgusting figure ungracefully before Sam moves in on him like a ferocious panther, opening his mouth and seeming to roar at him.

That stops Dean dead in his tracks. 

“Lemme alone. Don’t have catnip.”

No matter how many times Dean seems to swat Sam’s paws away, they just keep on coming back, much to his utter annoyance. When he manages to smack his brother in the face harder than he’d anticipated cause hey, it’s not like he doesn’t have a reason to, Sam finally finally pulls away. 

“Dean, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothin, Ssm.”

“And I can definitely see the proof of that here.”

Dean sneezes all over Sam’s pillow, which he gave him less than ten minutes ago as a result of his stupid cold ruining the two original ones on the bed. It’s the one closest to the door, as always. 

“Turn over.”

He cracks one eye open after promising himself to keep them sealed shut, since continually opening them aggravates his splitting headache. 

“Wha?”

Sam’s hand are firm yet gentle, still a huge annoyance to the eldest though as they force him on his back, sheets mysteriously coming up abruptly to cover his legs. 

His brother changes the pillow again and Dean sighs happily, sinking further into the beyond comfy bed. 

“If you try to get up one more time I will refuse to buy you pie ever again. Got it?”

Dean moans, a mixture of hatred, protest and disbelief roiling in his gut. 

“Sssmy’s being mean…” 

 

“Hey, what’s your color?”

“Huh?” His eyes blink away the eternity long moisture which cannot, he repeats simply cannot be tears, to see Sam’s face again. 

It’s the only sight he has seen in days and still as blurry as it was the first time. 

What did he ever do to deserve this?

Something cool and wet is placed on his forehead, another something that feels like a finger strokes his cheek briefly before leaving and coming back almost instantly to find permanent purchase there. 

“Your color, Dean.”

He coughs and sniffles, runs the back of his hand against the stubble growing annoyingly fast on his grungy face, “Dunno.”

Dean tries to think about that question, really does, but let’s face it, his mind is a pile of mush and his head is probably literally on fire. He should ask Sam to do something about that, find something to douse the fire with though Sammy doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“How bout pink?”

He sneezes wetly into Sam’s shoulder, that’s what he gets for coming up with that answer. 

“M’ not girl, Sam.”

“Really?” He can just about picture his little brother’s grin, “Cause that would explain the sudden strength last night that came up spur of the moment, which you used to pull me towards you like a teddy bear.”

“You’re not teddy bear. Told you, you’re big fluffy panther.”

Sam only laughs. 

 

“Wha day izzit?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Dean.”

Sam moves away from the table he seems to be at so much lately, leaves his laptop behind that Dean swears he must love more than his own brother. And no, he won’t admit that the jealously is quite misplaced if not freaking ridiculous. 

“Member to buy me fireworks, S’mmy.”

And then he’s out like a light bulb far past its due date. 

 

“So many colors," Dean mumbles in astonishment. 

Sam’s geeky face turns to him, displaying a goofy grin which makes him smile as well. 

Here they are, two brothers on the roof of his car in the motel parking lot, admiring the fireworks. Dean’s eyes go wider at every pop heard, every color brought to life high above him. Sam’s only half watching, swaddling Dean up in more blankets than the eldest knows what to do with. 

“Smmy, look.”

He points up towards one shaped like a giant star, radiating neon blue and expanding to cover the entire sky in more colors than he can count. 

Sam smiles and pulls his warm companion closer, “I see it, bro.” 

Minutes later his brother opens his mouth again yet Dean can’t hear a thing, swimming out towards the pretty lights in the sky, fierce as fire yet seemingly gentle, a vivid violet flickering in and out as if to wave at him, bringing him dreams of peace far away from the corners of hell for the remainder of that night. 

Sam won’t mind the drool appearing on his jacket, he’s got all he needs. 

Right here and right now.

**FIN**


End file.
